


punch walk

by sharkfish



Series: fixer upper [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Castiel (Supernatural), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dean hurts himself, Fixer Upper AU, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Omega Dean, because he's an idiot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:40:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27361384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharkfish/pseuds/sharkfish
Summary: “Dean Winchester, get down from there.”“Castiel Winchester, not all of us are clumsy,” Dean says. He’s in love with the stern squint Cas is directing towards him. “Remember that girl who got the first 10 in gymnastics?”
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: fixer upper [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1997440
Comments: 60
Kudos: 309





	punch walk

**Author's Note:**

> several people over at the pb server are responsible for this. i'm afraid to say names because i know i will forget some, but just know that if you have talked about demo day over there, this wee timestamp is probably your fault. 
> 
> also, thanks to [jemariel](http://jemariel.tumblr.com).

“Dean Winchester, get down from there.” 

Dean grins over from where he’s walking heel-to-toe along the railing of a freshly built second-story deck. They’re taking a break from filming to finally eat something, the rest of the crew on the benches built into the end of the deck that faces the sunset. 

“Castiel Winchester, not all of us are clumsy,” Dean says. He’s in love with the stern squint Cas is directing towards him. “Remember that girl who got the first 10 in gymnastics?”

“Nadia Comaneci,” Ash supplies around a mouthful of sandwich. 

“Yeah, her. That was supposed to be me, but there are a lot of politics in that sport.” 

Cas rolls his eyes. “You weren’t even alive then.” 

“What I’m saying is,” Dean says, turning on a toe to walk along the other side of the deck, “I could do  _ cartwheels _ —” 

Dean falls. 

It’s a long fall, but it’s over nearly instantly, and then Dean tumbles over a couple of times to end up on his back, staring into clouds so crisp they look fake. 

Dean’s had the wind knocked out of him plenty of times before — a semester of football in high school, bike crashes, slammed into a wall as a kid when his real dad was angry with drink, and once, memorably, getting bucked off a horse — but it’s not something you ever get used to. It’s like the airlock opens and all the oxygen in his lungs is sucked into a black hole, like his chest has been filled with concrete. There are long moments when it feels like he’ll never breathe again. 

Cas comes down the stairs so quickly that he’s on his knees next to Dean before Dean manages to suck in any air. “Jesus, stay still. Are you ok? Lydia’s calling 911.” 

When Dean starts breathing again, he can’t smell anything but Cas’s panic. “Pretty sure I broke my arm, but I’m fine,” Dean rasps out. “Don’t call a damn ambulance. I’ll drive myself to St. David’s.” 

“You will not,” Cas says. “You might have a neck injury. Just don’t m—” 

Dean pushes himself upright with his good arm. “See? Totally fine. You can drive me if that makes you feel better, Mr. Alpha-in-Shining-Armor.” 

Ash tells the 911 operator that the dumbass he works with has decided to forgo an ambulance, and Cas holds Dean steady when he stands. The stink of Cas’s fear is dizzying and awful, but Dean can’t really blame him. People die from shorter falls. 

Dean cradles his arm during the short drive to the hospital. In the waiting room, the tang of scent-erasing spray covering every surface makes Dean grimace, but it’s better than having to smell all the pain that’s been there before. The smell of Cas’s distress is enough to burn his nose on its own. 

Cas fills out all the paperwork. They don’t end up waiting long, but the exams, x-rays, and casting takes forever, and Dean walks out with a fractured ulna, mild concussion, and a bunch of nasty bruises. 

Cas is silent and seething on the way home, but Dean’s too tired and dizzy to say anything. The deep-down primal part of him despairs at his alpha being angry with him. He’s usually pretty good at controlling that bullshit, but he can’t quite manage it this time, unshed tears prickling hot behind his eyes. 

Despite the anger, Cas puts his arm around Dean to help him into the house and on the couch. “I’ll get you some water,” Cas says, but Dean grabs his hand before he can walk away. 

“Baby,” Dean says, “I’m ok. Seriously.” 

“You could have  _ died,”  _ Cas says with steel in his voice. 

Cas walks away, and Dean turns his head to watch him slam cabinet doors and curse at the icemaker that really only works if you select “crushed” but neither of them have bothered to fix yet. The way Cas smells, Dean thinks he’ll hand Dean the glass of water and stalk to his office, but instead he sits close on the couch, their shoulders brushing. 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Cas says. “But I need to…” His eyes drift down to the mating bite where Dean’s neck meets his shoulder, half visible under the collar of his t-shirt. 

“You won’t break me,” Dean says, tilting his head to show his neck, an invitation. Not that his alpha ever needs an invitation. 

Cas is careful anyway as he leans closer, nuzzling at Dean’s neck and then just breathing over his scent gland. “You could have died,” Cas says again, but this time it’s a cracked whisper. 

The movement pulls at his sore shoulder, but Dean wraps his arm around Cas, holding him tightly. “Good news is, I didn’t,” Dean says. 

Cas’s scent flips to relief, the way the sun feels after days of grey, like he didn’t fully believe Dean was still alive until he said it. Cas sighs softly into Dean’s neck and says, tone far gentler than his words, “You’re the most infuriating man I’ve ever met.” 

“But you fuckin’ love me.” 

“Yes,” Cas says, long-suffering, “I fucking love you.” 

Dean smiles. Squeezes Cas. Kisses his forehead. “Let’s go to bed, baby. I’m beat and would rather smell like my alpha than a hospital.” 

Cas nods, and follows Dean to their bedroom with a hand on his lower back as if he may swoon at any moment. And in the bedroom, Cas hovers without touching as Dean winces his way through taking off his clothes. 

“Hon, come on,” Dean says. “I’m not your grandma’s China.” 

Dean crawls into bed, and Cas immediately shuffles some pillows in a way that makes it clear he’s wishing his omega was recovering in a nest he built. Dean has come to realize that Cas is far more  _ alpha  _ than Dean is  _ omega,  _ and he’s still surprised that he likes it. That his chest grows warm instead of stale in these moments. 

“You can do that tomorrow,” Dean says. 

Cas nods and steps back to take his clothes off, tossing them on the floor next to Dean’s. This is the biggest indicator that Cas is over-worried — they’ve had multiple arguments about Dean’s habit of leaving clothes strewn around.  _ The hamper is  _ **right there,** _ Dean!  _

Cas lays next to Dean, hesitantly and too far away. He’s far more shaken than Dean is, and Dean is quick to pull him close. Cas nuzzles into Dean’s neck and gently, sweetly, bites at his mark, a dimpled, oval scar at the juncture of neck and shoulder. Cas doesn’t have the sharpened canines like most other alphas, so the mark is more prominent than a clean puncture. 

“I love you,” Cas whispers, nuzzling against Dean’s collarbone, leaving a trail of his scent. In their bedroom, in their bed, covered with their mingled scents and memories, Dean feels safe. 

“I love you too,” Dean says. Goosebumps rise at the scrape of Cas’s cheek on the round of his shoulder. 

Cas doesn’t reply, just continues to cover every inch of Dean in  _ mate.  _ He touches so carefully, barely grazing Dean’s skin, and Dean almost insists again that he’s not breakable, then realizes his entire body is sore and aching.

Dean watches Cas kiss his way back up Dean’s body from his ankles, and then tugs him down for a real kiss, the first one since his stupid fall. “I’m so lucky,” Cas says, “to have you as my mate.” 

Dean snorts. “It seems more likely that I’m the lucky one.” 

“Stop,” Cas says in his stern voice, and Dean shuts up. “I’m so lucky. And I — I was so scared that my luck was up.” 

“I’m sorry,” Dean says. “I promise I won’t be a jackass anymore.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” Cas says, smiling. 

“Fine. I won’t walk on deck railings anymore.” 

“Or jump through walls.”

“Fine, I won’t jump through walls either.”

“Or use power tools without the appropriate guards and safety gear.” 

“I draw the line there, baby. Blade guards are a communist plot.” 

Cas snorts, and Dean tucks under his chin, breathing deep the scent of his mate. “Hey,” Dean whispers. “I’m sorry I scared you.” 

Cas squeezes him tight enough for it to hurt, but Dean doesn’t protest. His alpha’s touch is healing for both of them. 

**Author's Note:**

> [sharkfish on tumblr](http://sharkfish.tumblr.com)
> 
> [rebloggable tumblr post](https://sharkfish.tumblr.com/post/633738003558416384/punch-walk-on-ao3-a-demo-day-timestamp-rating)
> 
> i'm sorry i'm so terrible at answering comments, but please know that every single one is so precious to me and keeps me going on the rough days. <3 thank you for being here!!


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